AN - It is the Bicentennial of the War of 1812 and I've been wanting to write something for it so when this plot bunny came to me today at work (I'm involved in the bicentennial commemorations in my area), I couldn't resist.

The words in bold are the commands for the 1812 loading procedure for the Indian pattern flintlock musket (or Brown Besses as they were also known). The commas and whatnot in the commands are where the sergeant would be pausing or drawing out syllables in the command.

I do not own Hetalia

AS the Front Rank Kneeling, Prime and, Load

How had it come to this?

Him fighting the closest thing he had ever had to flesh and blood.

He was fighting with the Glengarry Light Infantry Fencible company, fighting to go retake Fort Erie. It was the first time both brothers were on the same battlefield and Canada wasn't too sure what to make of that.

Regardless of his inner turmoil, he automatically reached back to his cartouche and pulled out a small cartridge, bringing it up to his teeth.

Handle, Cartridge

?, 12?

Mat'ew had been moving around with some of his more nomadic southern tribes for the past few seasons when he got this strange sensation. So after waving a few goodbyes, he ran off, chasing after the feeling.

It took him a few days but eventually the strange tugging led him to a clearing where he saw a boy with the same face as him but dressed more like some of the tribes far south that his people sometimes met.

Instinctively knowing that that the boy was the same as him, Mat'ew waved a greeting and asked "Who are you? I'm Mat'ew and these are my lands."

The other boy's face split in a wide grin and gestured with a side-sweeping, small, chubby hand as he answered "I'm Afred, my lands are back there."

Greeting aside, he then continued "Wanna play?"

Mat'ew nodded and soon the duo were nigh inseparable, wandering around both of their lands until the strange feeling return and they separated, each going to their eastern coasts to meet the men who would change their worlds.

Prime

He wasn't entirely sure why he had signed up, perhaps it was to prove something to England, perhaps to America, perhaps to even himself. Regardless, he was here now, wearing the green wool, black leather crossbelts, cartouche and bayonet attached, haversack and canteen along with his pack, fighting. He had been moving around this Fencible regiment, serving with different companies and platoons since it had been first raised, drawing on people from all over his land.

While he was still a colony, to have an Acadian fighting alongside someone from Halifax alongside a Loyalist from Upper Canada alongside an Islander from PEI alongside a Canadien of Lower Canada alongside one of his aboriginals, well, it was a heady feeling. A powerful one. They were fighting together instead of with each other.

He had never regretted his decision, fighting to protect his land and people from a war they had never wanted and was proud of the men, his people, that he served with.

Here, he was almost happy (if only he weren't at war).

Cast About

August 21, 1629

Matthieu wasn't very happy. His nation was under occupation and he was sure Francis was very displeased with him. Especially as Québec and Tadoussec had just been captured by a privateering Kirke brothers, not even the actual British army and also because he had been personally captured and been dragged south to England's colonies there.

"O-ye you!" Came a cheerful voice right behind him, causing him to jump.

Oh. And his prison guard was him. The boy with the same face as him that had forgotten him and lost interest in him after the first minute the ros-bif had introduced them. And now was far too interested in him, tracking him down no matter where he hid in the house.

"Wanna play?"

No, no he did not want to play, he wanted to go home. But, the silly boy was persistent so perhaps he should play just one game with him or until he forgot about him again.

When England back later in the day he was startled to see his colony sprawled out on the floor with that of the frog's, their small hands intertwined and small smiles on their faces.

Draw, Ramrod

Why had it taken so long for England to declare war anyway? Great Britain declared war on the United States January 6th, 1813 – whereas America had been attacking him since war was declared by his President on June 18th 1812! He even had an army enter his borders seven days before that!

He really felt his worth there.

Yes, he knew that on a personal level, that loosing his southern neighbour had devastated the oh-so almighty Empire. And, yes, there was Napoleon in Europe and other problems that he was repeatedly told that England had his hands full with. But for him to completely ignore him wasn't very confidence or loyalty inspiring.

Ram Down, Cartridge

March 17, 1775

"IT ISN'T ENOUGH FOR YOU IS IT!" Matthew screamed at his brother who he had finally managed to track down to Boston. "WHY ISN'T IT ENOUGH?"

"HE'S REPRESSING ME!" Alfred shouted back.

"Repression?... REPRESSION! WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT REPRESSION? TRY LIVING UNDER FRANCE! HIS LAWS AND PRACTICES ARE DECADES BEHIND WHAT ENGLAND'S ARE! HE GAVE SO MUCH TO YOU, ALLOWED YOU SO MUCH, SPENT EVERY MOMENT HE COULD WITH YOU! WHY ARE YOU BETRAYING HIM?"

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT ARTHUR AND I, THIS IS BETWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA! MY PEOPLE ARE SICK OF BING RULED BY A KING AND A SYSTEM THAT DOESN'T CARE FOR THEM!"

Matthew took a calming breath, this wasn't why he was here. "Al. Alfred F. Jones, please. Listen to me. If you continue this way, there won't be any way of fixing this. We can talk this out, get England to listen. Please. Alfred, come home."

Alfred just looked back him with cold eyes, "I am home Canada. I suggest you go crawling back to the man that holds your leash and tell him that there is no way I'm ever coming back. We don't want to return to be crushed under his boot and that of his tyrannical king."

Matthew felt his heart sink at the use of his formal name, though the rest was not unexpected and calmly chocked out"Fine... America." He pivoted on his heal and left, trying to ignore the pain in his heart as he did so.

Return, Ramrod

This was becoming something out of a schoolyard. They were almost brawling children, determined to wreck vengeance on one another in return for knocking over the other's snowman.

United States of America had a raid on Gananoque and he had attacked Ogdensburg in return.

An American killed General Brock, one of his killed General Pike.

He burned York, he burned Washington.

Back and forth it went, burning ships, land and forts, killing men, raping and pillaging in villages. Circles in circles until the screams in his mind crying for vengeance balanced those that cried out in sorrow for the dead.

Shou-lder, Arms

April 20, 1812

Matthew leaned back at his desk with a sigh. His people were still on the high alert with all that was going on in Europe, the Maritimes especially watching the shores for any French ships.

England was at war with Napoleon and his former father. Matthew almost felt sorry for France, England was out for blood. Lots of it. He had not been the same personally since the loss of his... former brother and was happy to go to war against the man who had helped America.

Slam.

Speak of the devil.

"Canada! Is that son of a bitch here?" America stood in his door way.

"Who?" Canada answered blandly, as he flipped the page of the book he had been reading, making it appear as though disinterested but internally, he was tense and he couldn't focus on the words at all.

This couldn't be good, America only swore like that when very mad as otherwise, he thought it made him seem unheroic.

"You know who. The bastard. England!" America huffed out through grit teeth. "He's crossed the line again and I need to speak with him. Now. So where is your master Canada?"

Canada ignored the jab and answered in kind, "He's in Europe. As you would now if you paid attention to anything beyond your own borders. Have you heard at all of Napoleon?"

"Of course I have!" America snarled, "it's because of that war that I'm here! He's been blocking my trading ships to France and ignoring my sailor's rights by boarding my ships and press ganging any they believe to be British into his navy! If he doesn't stop, he'll find another war on his hands..."

Canada closed his book with a snap, stopping America in mid-rant and looked over at the startled man with dark eyes. "You clearly never learned any manners America. You come bursting in here without a so much as a by-your-leave and now are issuing open threats? Have you no shame?"

America stuck his chin up and defiantly responded "Calm down Canada. I never threatened you. And besides, we've known each other for so long that there is no need for formality between us. This is why you need to get independence from the Great Empire, you are far too high strung."

Canada stood and swiftly closed the distance between them, using his book to tap America's chest. "Ah,but you forget – which is odd considering you love so to point it out – but I am a colony of said Great Empire and a threat of war against him is a threat of war against me. I have no desire to continue to bandy such words with you, now kindly show yourself to the door or I'll have the butler throw you out."

America looked taken aback for a moment before lightly pushing him away and straightening his lapels. "Very well, but this isn't the last you've heard of this."

As the study closed once more and Canada was once more alone in the quiet of his study, he let his arm fall and whispered "That's what I'm afraid of."

Make Ready

But now that he was here, on the same battlefield as his traitorous-no-longer brother, could he actually find it in him to shoot the man?

Sure he was furious that the damn, stupid, ignorant, piss-poor excuse for a sibling had attacked him in order to get the attention of their estranged and equally as stupid, ignorant, piss-poor excuse for a father's (no, he wasn't mad, never.) attention; but to shoot him? Because he was an idiot? That was a little much.

If only they weren't on opposite sides of the ocean, at this point Canada would have no problem with locking the two of them in a room and letting them duke it out there so he would no longer be dragged into it.

Pre-sent

But even after all of this hardship, after all he'd done to him and all Canada had done to him in return, Canada could not bring himself to hate him.

Why, he didn't know.

He hated this feeling of being conflicted, of being torn between the fury of his people and his personal emotions but he just couldn't do it.

But that was why, even though his wealth could have allowed him to get a better gun, one with rifling, he continued to carry his Brown Bess musket. Because not only had she been with him through all these years and still worked but she was also still as inaccurate and unreliable as the best of her kind, even at 50 yards.

It might be a bit of a cowards way out but he would only point his weapon towards the advancing blue coats. If his shot hit Al... – no, this wasn't his brother, this was America – then that was Fate's work not his.

He would never intentionally hurt his brother but he would not just let a threat to his people go unscathed.

Fire

O-ye is pronounced Oh-yay and is what town criers would often say - "O-ye, O-ye, Hear ye, Hear ye" and I thought that 17th century America might adopt this saying as a way of getting someone's attention.

The Glengarry Light Infantry were a Fencible unit – meaning that their contract was to only to serve in the colony, not abroad – raised at first in Glengarry county then all over the Northern Colonies from Upper Canada to PEI, they were active all throughout the war and were among the best trained and elite forces here. Their uniforms were the same pattern as the 95th Rifle regiment (same as Sharpe's Rifles if you've ever read/seen the books/show) though they were outfitted with muskets instead of rifles. Seemed fitting for Canada to work with them.

If you have any questions on the above, I'll do my best to answer ;)

Please Review!